A Cold One On The House
by Rush Limborg
Summary: Set sometime in late Season One, after "Let Me Count The Ways". A snowstorm traps Sam and Diane in Cheers after closing...for the night. Naturally, it's good old-fashioned tension, games, and close calls, as only Sam & Diane can give! Actually inspired in part by samanddianefan10's "In His Arms". Rated T for a near-boiling point... Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This is my first "early-years" story for ****_Cheers_****. I suppose I was a little reluctant to, because I tend to prefer focusing on characters that are more reflective—and therefore, more honest with themselves and each other. Such breeds the conversations that so often seem to dominate my work. Still…there's something about the Season-One "dance" Sam and Diane have with each other—the tension between them, the hidden feelings of romance simmering beneath the surface…just waiting for the right moment to boil and bubble and eventually burst in the explosion of grand passion we finally see in "Showdown, Part II".**

**In the meantime…there's still the game—the flirtations, and the tension underneath. (And at last—I finally get to write for Coach!) I hope I do it justice, here. I don't know exactly ****_when_**** in Season One it's set—just that it's after "Let Me Count The Ways", and that it's winter. Enjoy!**

* * *

"All right, Sam, I'm off," Coach called out, as he took his coat.

Sam Malone nodded at his old friend, "Yeah, you be careful there, Coach, you hear? Snow's coming down pretty hard."

"Well, don't worry about it—I had my car outfitted with those chains you see on trucks in this weather—" Coach paused, and frowned, "Or did I take the bus…?"

Sam chuckled, "Hey, uh, Coach—?"

"No, hold on there, Sam, I'm trying to remember—"

"_Coach_…I saw your car outside. It's there. You're fine."

"Oh, yeah…." Coach straightened up, "Well, then, I've got nothing to worry about! See ya tomorrow, Sam!"

"Yeah, take it easy tonight, Coach—"

"Sure will, Sam—" He froze again, "Or were the _chains_ on the bus?"

"Good _night_, Coach!"

Coach snapped out of it, and nodded, "G'night, Sam. Good night, Diane!" he called out.

Diane Chambers was cleaning the tables—the only person besides the two men still at the bar. She chuckled to herself, and nodded to him with a smile, "Good night, Coach."

As Coach left, Sam found himself focusing on Diane, as she resumed her cleaning. And he chuckled, as he wiped down the bar.

Diane stopped, and turned to him, "And _what_ do you find so amusing, Mr. Malone?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't you think you've focused on _that_ table long enough? You wipe that down any more, I swear it'll lose some of the finish."

"I highly doubt that. And for your information, this is one of Carla's tables. I've already finished those under _my_ jurisdiction…."

"Oh, is that why you're still here?"

"Apparently," Diane muttered, as she resumed her work, focusing—Sam now saw—on _one_ spot in particular. "From the look of things, she procrastinated on cleaning _certain_ stains until the end of the shift—namely, _this_ one."

"Hey, that doesn't sound like the Carla I know—"

"Well, then? In that case, she did it intentionally, so as to _spite_ me…." She straightened up. "That should do—I've done all I could."

Sam shook his head. Despite herself, there was clearly a part of Diane Chambers that was eager to please…in her own way. She was too proud to admit it, but Sam knew darn well he was included in her not-so-little inner list of people to please. He knew it…and he loved the thought.

"Well, then," he said, "While you're here, think you could help me out with putting these glasses and mugs away?"

Diane sighed, shaking her head, "Sam, I really think I should get going."

"Hey…" Sam grinned, "I'll pay overtime. Besides, I think you're already past you shift."

"Well, of course I am! Carla—"

"Enough about Carla; now get over here and help me out."

Diane sighed again, and headed over. "All _right_…but I don't suppose there'll be _more_ with which you'll wish me to 'help you out'?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, sure, but you wouldn't."

Diane tossed him a Look, with a smirk.

Sam chuckled, as he continued his cleaning of the bar counter. He loved that little smirk of hers—the amusement, the non-verbal "_Sam_…." Either she had a thing for him, or a thing for the flirts…which meant she had a thing for him. Either way, he felt a little luckier every time she tossed him that smile of amusement. Of course, _she'd_ deny it—she'd swear up-and-down she was just amused at what she'd call his "childish antics"…but Sam knew the truth. She was a woman—a darn cute one, at that—and he was Sam Malone, every woman's secret dream. It was just a matter of time.

Diane paused, and stared in the direction of the front windows. The snow was now pounding the street above…and it was starting to spill over and fall into the stairs leading to the bar entrance. Sam watched her, standing in silence…finally swallowing hard, and what looked like suppressing her tears.

Sam walked up to her again, "Hey…you all right?"

She shook her head, turning to Sam with a worries look in her eyes, "Oh, Sam, I—I hope Coach makes it home, before…"

"Hey, don't worry about it—it's not the first time he's driven through the snow—"

"I-I'm sure it isn't, Sam. It's only…" she sighed, "It's just—this storm. Who knows what could happen? I—"

"Hey…" Sam put an arm around her, hand on her shoulder. "He'll be okay. Coach is one of the toughest guys I've ever known. It doesn't seem like it, but he is. If anything, that storm had better be scared of _him_."

Diane smiled at him, and nodded, "I…suppose you're right, Sam."

"Sure I am."

"Of course…." After a moment, she added, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Still smiling, she said, "Remove your hand from my shoulder? _Immediately_, if you please?"

Sam snickered, and did. "Don't tell me you didn't like it."

Diane shrugged, as she resumed her work, noting in that trying-too-hard-to-sound-haughty tone of hers, "It's served its purpose, I _suppose_…but that's over now, thank you."

"Yeah…I'll bet it did," Sam muttered. "Thing for him" or not, she sure did the "cold-shouldered ice princess" act pretty darn good.

The ice shattered, and she suddenly slumped, the bottom of the mug she was holding hitting the bar.

Sam frowned, "Hey, what's—"

Diane whirled to him, the worried look in her eyes even worse, her words coming out a mile a minute: "Sam, I was suddenly reminded of the simple fact that—in all probability—the storm will soon reach a level where—"

"Hey, Diane, I said Coach is _fine_—"

"_Sam_!" Diane stamped her foot, "I was referring to _us_!"

Sam pursed his lips, and glanced at the windows. After a moment, he sighed. "Yeah…that _would_ be a problem, wouldn't it?"

Diane was seizing her purse and then rushing out of the bar counter, around it, and to the coat rack, "It most certainly _would_! Sam—work to do or not, I _really_ think we'd better—" as she seized her coat, throwing it on, "—leave for our homes immediately! It…it wouldn't do to—"

Her words were cut off with a yelp, as she opened the door to let in a drift of snow! It wasn't _too_ big, but the impact was enough to knock off her feet, landing on her behind.

Sam rushed over to her, taking her from behind to help her up, "You okay?"

Diane nodded as she stood up again, brushing off her coat and her skirt, "I—I think so. T-thank you, Sam."

"No problem," Sam _shoved_ the door shut, hearing it crunch against the snow. He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to her. "Too late, huh?"

Diane huffed, "It's not _funny_."

"Aw, come on, honey—admit it: if _I_ fell on my behind like that, you'd bust a gut laughing—_before_ you came over to help me!"

Diane paused at this…and shrugged. "Perhaps. But then, _your_ fall would be akin to an egomaniacal lounge lizard suddenly undercut by the proverbial banana peel."

"Oh, who's talking about ego?"

Diane scoffed, as she took off her coat, "Now, _you listen_, Sam Ma-_LONE_—!"

The outcry was because, whirling to slap the coat back on the rack, she'd slipped again on the snow, which in their struggle to get her back up had been pounded into near-ice—falling back down on her behind.

Sam laughed again, shaking his head. "Now, come on, sweetheart, you gotta admit—"

Diane rushed to her feet, "Now look _HERE_—!"

That was from another slip. With this, Diane crossed her arms and sat cross-legged, pouting.

"Aw, come on…" Sam made it a point to walk _around_ the white now on the floor, and took her in his arms again—this time picking her up, and setting her on a dry part of the floor where she stood up, smiled, and gave him a slight bow.

"_Thank_ you," she said, and handed him her coat.

Sam took it, and put it on the rack, shaking his head with a smirk.

"I saw that!"

Sam turned to her. "What?"

Diane threw her hands out, "You _still_ find it amusing! I suggest _you_ admit, Mr. Malone, that if you _had_ been the one to fall on your…_posterior_…you—"

Sam grinned. "Just think about it."

"What are you—" Diane blinked…and looked as though she were fighting something.

Sam nodded slowly, as he walked over to her, "Huh…?"

Finally, Diane swallowed, and shook her head with a chuckle, "Well, _regardless_—"

"_See_? Huh…? Come on, sweetheart—"

Diane had been walking back to the bar counter—and at this, she whirled to him, pointing sharply, "_Sam_…I would appreciate if you kindly _cease_ in these…familial _overtures_."

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about? I—"

"_Well_, then," Diane straightened up, "I suppose I'll word it in a way that even _you_ should be able to understand: do _not_ call me 'honey', or 'sweetheart'—I am _not_ your 'honey' or your 'sweetheart'—"

"Come on, you're not gonna tell me you're bothered by _that_."

Diane pursed her lip for a moment…and then smiled, "Perhaps you're right, Sam. I shouldn't be bothered at all."

"There ya go."

"I should be amused."

Sam shrugged, as he continued to walk up to her, "Why? Don't think you'd be worth it, or something?"

It worked—Diane stiffened at this new shot at her feminine pride. But only for a minute, and her smile didn't fade, "Well, it'd be very sad for you, wasting your time much longer."

Sam grinned, "Wanna bet?"

For a moment, Diane said nothing…and her smile seemed to fade, her eyes a little wider. Finally, she said, "Just to inform you, Sam…I'm prepared to flip you onto the floor, again—so, if you _try_, we'll see who will be laughing, in a moment."

Sam failed to fight the flinch at the memory of the first time he'd tried to kiss her. He shrugged, "Well, you know…can't blame me for trying."

And he walked back to behind the bar counter, to start checking the receipts.

* * *

Diane stayed where she was for a moment longer, and then turned to look at him with a smile. "Why, Sam…! Did you say what I thought you said?"

"Diane, not now—I gotta check this, and see if Coach got it right."

"Well—" Diane froze, suddenly reminded. "Coach…"

She rushed back to the bar counter—picking up the phone. She dialed Coach's number, and waited, her eyes closed. _Please, Coach—please, be home. _Please_…pick up the phone!_

"Yeah?"

Diane's heart leaped, as she smiled, "Oh, Coach, it's Diane! I—oh, thank God. I…I was so worried—"

"Oh, yeah…well, don't worry about me, Diane—like I told Sam, I got those chains on my tires. I got them after all—what do you know! What was I so worried about—?"

After a pause, his voice turned grave. "Oh…oh, no, the bus! If _they_ don't have—"

"Coach," Diane chuckled, "I'm…sure the busses are fine."

"Oh, yeah…well, I'm okay, Diane—how are you?"

"I—I'm fine, Coach. I'm…still at the bar, with Sam—" She froze, and swallowed as the implications hit her. She chuckled again, nervously. "I…believe we're stuck here, for the night."

"Oh…well, talk to Sam about it—I kinda remember there being a bunch of blankets and things he keeps in the office for this kind of thing…." His voice turned grave again, "Or was that _Melville's_? Oh, geez, and they're closed—no, I'm sure Sam has all that, too. Ask him."

Diane nodded. "Okay, Coach."

"Yeah…you'll be fine, sweetheart. Good night."

Diane nodded. "Good night…."

As she hung up, and put the phone away, she let out a light sigh, and a self-amused smile. She'd just made such an issue over _Sam_ calling her that…but with Coach, it was—different. It was affectionate. With _Sam_, it was…

Or was it? Not too long ago, he'd shared tears with her, when Diane had told him of dear Elizabeth, her beloved cat. And then, so touched, she walked up to him…and he held her in his arms…and then…

Well, nothing had happened…but it almost had. And if Diane hadn't had that sudden surge of doubt in that _moment_…they would have kissed. And who knew where that would've led?

"Told you he'd be okay," Sam said—and suddenly Diane realized he was standing by her, smiling warmly.

Diane nodded. "Yes…he's fine."

"Yeah, well…in the meantime, I guess we're kinda stuck here, for tonight."

"Don't remind me," Diane muttered.

Sam nodded, looking off for a moment. Finally, he said, "Well, I'm done with the receipts. The rest of the glasses and mugs are away…I'm pretty sure that's it."

Diane nodded. "Well—Coach said something about your keeping blankets in the office?"

"Well, I think so, and a few pillows—but I don't remember having to use them in a while."

Diane frowned, "Well, if you don't, I don't know _how_ we're supposed to keep—"

At Sam's smile, Diane threw up her hands, "Don't say it!"

Sam shrugged. "Well, in that case, we'll have to use our coats, I guess."

"Fine. But in the meantime…"

"Right, let's go check."

As they headed to the office, Diane shook her head, amused despite herself.

_He's incorrigible—absolutely shameless! To think of joking of…of taking _advantage_ of our situation—!_

But he hadn't actually done that…not fully. And that was something worth noting: whenever Diane set her limits…Sam would always respect them. In his own, juvenile way, perhaps, but…he did, nonetheless.

* * *

Sure enough, there were blankets and pillows, just as Diane had said Coach had said. There was even an alarm clock—can't be too careful, anyway.

Diane shook her head with a smile, as Sam brought them out. "What else is in there, I wonder, which you've long forgotten?"

Sam chuckled, "Sorry, honey, but no books, if you're wondering."

"I wasn't. It would certainly surprise me if there _were_ any."

"Come on, give me some credit. If I couldn't read, I'd have been pretty helpless with those receipts back there."

"_Sam_…" Diane grinned, her eyes sparkling, "Not being _illiterate_ does not make you literate."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm not gonna impress you anyway, so why should I bother?"

Sam set the box down on the desk, and headed to the couch.

"Sam…?" Diane was still grinning, as she walked—almost swayed—over to him, "Is there a reason you'd _want_ to impress me, on anything beyond the _usual_ subject…?"

"Oh, shut up," Sam muttered, as he took off the cushions, and folded out the bed.

Diane sighed, shaking her head. "Of course you would."

"What?"

"You have a _bed_ in your office…."

"Hey, sometimes I work late."

"And I'm _certain_ that is the primary justification for its existence. So, I wonder how many floozies you've swayed to 'stick around' while the bar would otherwise close for the night?"

"Okay, that does it—" Sam walked up to her, "Look, I don't pretend to be some kind of boy scout, Miss _Chambers_, but assuming it _is _your business, I'm _not_ the mindless sex ape you seem to think I am. I've got my dignity too, you know—and so do all those girls I've had. Yeah…that's right—_all_ of them. It might be hard for Diane Chambers, _super_-genius, to believe—but for _your_ information…all those women, they don't go for me because I tell them to—they do it because they _want_ to. You know—I just feel sorry for you that _you_ don't! I'd tell you what you're missing, but you'd just laugh it off."

Diane held up her hand, "Look, Sam, I don't mean to—"

"You know, I don't even know _why_ I'm trying to defend—no!" Sam's pointer shot up, "Scratch that—I _do_ know. It's because you've been so _obsessed_ with telling me how stupid all those girls are that I go out with, and I'm sick and tired of it—and whether _I_ like it or not, I'm stuck with a prissy, spoiled little—_ice_ _princess_, for the whole night! You don't like it either? Fine—but like it or not, there's _one_ bed, here. You want it?"

Diane said nothing, her gaze lowered as she wrung her hands a little. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say his words had _really_ hit home. She looked almost…hurt.

Finally, she nodded, and met his gaze. "That…that won't be necessary, Sam," she said.

All his feelings of triumph left Sam, as it was all too clear that Diane had just been fighting tears.

She swallowed, and shrugged. "I'll—use the couch in the pool room." She turned to the box, and pulled out a couple pillows and a blanket.

Sam frowned, "Uh—look, I'm pretty sure it'll be warmer in here—"

"I'll use my coat, if I have to!" Diane carried the stuff to the doorway. She paused, and turned to him. "_Further_," she added, again trying to put on the "haughty" air, "As far as _you're_ apparently concerned, Sam…it's my normal environment, isn't it? 'Ice princess' that I am…."

"Diane, I—"

"Good night, Mr. Malone," Diane turned, and stormed out of the office.

"Good night," Sam said, watching her—not realizing until after it came out how warm his tone was.

Diane paused for a moment, and turned to him. They held one another's gaze in silence…until finally, Diane whirled away, heading into the pool room.

Sam let out a sigh. _Way to go, Sammy…real smooth, huh?_

He made it a point not to close the door, as he took out his own pillows and blanket.


	2. Chapter 2

Diane made sure to go around the snow/ice, which thank heaven was now smaller than before. Still, she had to be careful…there was still the water that came from the mess.

She finally reached the rack, taking her coat. As she turned, she noticed that, though the lights were off in Sam's office, the door was open.

Diane sighed, shaking her head. _He's so transparent—an invitation to change my mind! The man's presumption is _insufferable_! And after what he said to me—_

She slipped again at this—on the water, this time. The sound of the splash rang throughout the bar.

She braced herself for the lights in the office coming back on…or for his voice asking if she was all right—or for his head sticking out—_anything._ Just his giving any indication of taking note of poor helpless little Diane, unable to get her own _coat_ on her own, without falling.

She thought she hears the creaking of bed springs…but that was all. It was as though Sam had begun to move on instinct…but then, decided against it.

Diane's vision blurred. She blinked it back. Why was she fighting tears over _this_? She didn't _want_ him to come out—

Or…did she? Did she only _think_ she didn't? Well, at any rate, Sam apparently thought she didn't…had apparently decided against helping her, so as to spare her the embarrassment he thought she'd feel—

_No…you're giving him far too much credit. He's just sitting there, thinking, "Well, let her wallow in that puddle, that smug little 'ice princess'. That'll show her—why should I care?"_

Diane's eyes welled up again—and had to force, with all her might, the tears away. No…she wouldn't. She _wouldn't_ give him the satisfaction of crying—she _wouldn't_!

She stood up, and walked straight to the pool room, sitting back down on the couch. _There…there we are. I didn't let him win—he didn't beat me—_

_Oh, what's the use? Beat you in _what_? He stayed in there out of respect for you—and you know it. He…he…oh, Sam, I'm so sorry. You're right—I _am_ such a smug, spoiled little girl who acts like she's so superior to you. I—I don't want to be that way—I don't! I just…sometimes you can be so _frustrating_ to me, at times—to _my_ sensibilities, to my tastes, and wants and needs. You…you…_

No, that was that. She took off her shoes, and stretched out on the sofa, spreading the blanket over her, and the coat over that. She lay there, on her side, bringing the covers to her neck. It wasn't her down comforter…but it was warm enough, she supposed.

She couldn't sleep. She couldn't even relax enough to try. Perhaps it was the cold…perhaps it was all the dark shadows, and her being alone—

Diane swallowed, and blinked back another tear. Part of her, a significant part of her heart, wanted her to swallow her pride and gather everything and rush back to the office. Sam would be there…and she could sleep peacefully, knowing that her…friend (at the very least…that's what he was, she could certainly admit) was with her, to see her through this night in an almost alien environment.

But another part of her wouldn't let her. The part that wouldn't give him "the satisfaction". And to be blunt, that part had a point: how would Sam interpret "I'm lonely" or "I'm cold" or "I'm afraid"? Just another sexual overture—

_Would he? Would he truly take it to mean that? He was so deeply hurt by my all but accusing him of such, after he comforted me over Elizabeth. And now…_

She looked around. The truth was…she was a little frightened. The cold—especially the part of her skirt wet by the snow and its remnants…the darkness…being _alone_ in the cold and the darkness, with all the shapes. She could almost be certain the pool table was moving.

Diane squeezed her eyes shut. _No…don't let it affect you. You are better than this—you're _above_ this!_

And she felt a shiver, and pressed her eyes against the pillow.

* * *

Sam found himself pacing the office. He knew he'd done the right thing, leaving Diane be, when he'd heard her slip again. She'd have been mad at him, especially after what he'd said. Either that, or she'd find his protectiveness…amusing.

Tell the truth, he didn't blame her. Striving to be self-reliant…to solve her problems on her own—and being stubborn about it. Sam could sure understand that…and respect it.

But that didn't make it any easier. He was sure he'd heard a little sniffle, after the slip. Everything in him _begged_ to go out to her, and help her—to be the man she needed…and just maybe, wanted. But—something held him back. And then, he'd heard her get up, and walk.

_Did she want me to help her out? Sheesh, what _is_ it about that woman—just _expecting_ me to automatically KNOW what she wants! I can't read minds, Diane—even if you think YOU can!_

That didn't make it any better, of course. And to top it all off, he had to go take a leak. And the men's room was right near the pool room.

He sighed, put his shoes back on, and made the trip.

Before he entered the men's room, he paused. Should he? For all he knew, she'd be awake, and start shedding angry tears at his presumption to see how little Diane was doing after falling on her—

He sighed, and went further down the hall, making sure to be quiet. _I sure hope I don't regret this._

Her eyes were closed—but if his hearing meant anything, Sam was sure she wasn't asleep. She was trying to, though…and didn't seem like she noticed he was there.

_Or she's trying not to._

At any rate, it was best not to stay there—certainly not to go up to her, or…sit down by her, or gently brush her soft cheek—

_Oh, what are you thinking? Even if she weren't awake, how sappy can you get? What's she doing to you, anyway? You're a hound—a wolf! You're not a sweet, tender…whatever-it-is._

He sighed, and went back to the men's room.

Afterwards, as he washed his hands, he caught something in the mirror. Turning off the sink and taking a couple paper towels to dry, he turned and walked to the opposite wall, to the right of the door. Another piece of graffiti had been blotted out. Sam wondered when this had happened.

He looked closely at it, to see if he could make it out….

And let out a laugh—not a loud one—as he read: _For a good time, call Diane Chambers_. There was a phone number underneath—not the real one; the order of the numbers was wrong a little bit. He knew: he'd memorized the number on her application, just in case….

_Well, this was probably Carla, when she was fixing up the plumbing. It'd be just like her._ And the marker strokes were pretty panicked—probably Diane, though what the heck _she_ was doing in the men's room he had no idea. She wasn't that kind of girl—

Oh, well. Maybe something to ask her about. _Well, I'd sure love to see the look on her face when I tell her she didn't blot it _all_ out_….

_Diane_. Sam stiffened, and sighed. He tossed the paper towels in the can, and marched to the door. Annoyed or not, she needed him to be there—to be, at least, a friend—

He froze as he walked out into the hall—and nearly ran right into Diane.

"Whoa!" Sam chuckled. "Well, uh—"

"Yes! Um…" Diane chuckled, "I was just…going to—"

"Yeah, I was just…going back—"

"Why—yes, of course! I-I could see that—"

"Yeah, well, uh…don't let me hold you up."

Diane nodded. "Right. Um—excuse me…."

She ducked into the ladies' room.

Sam nodded. _Well…there ya go. Guess I had that decision made for me. Sheesh, I almost made an idiot out of myself!_

He turned to head back to the office—

But then the door to the ladies' room yanked open again, and Diane darted out, "Sam, wait!"

Sam turned to her. "Um—"

"Wait…" Diane stood there, "I _must_ say this."

Sam shrugged. "Fine, it's not like I have a say in that…."

Diane sighed, smiling at him briefly. Finally, she swallowed, and said, "I just want to say, Sam, that I'm sorry for insulting your…well, your _experience_—"

"No, no, hold on—hold on," Sam smiled, "That was nothing—that was no reason for me to just slam you like I did."

"But nonetheless—!"

"Hey…" Sam chuckled, "Why don't we just forgive each other, and leave it at that, huh?"

Diane nodded, and smiled at him, "Fair enough, I suppose."

They stood there in silence for a moment longer, until Diane said, "Sam…I was wondering—is it really warmer in the office?"

Sam shrugged, "Yeah, that kinda happens with no windows, this time of year."

Diane nodded. "Well…I-I don't suppose…I could—stay in there for the rest of the night? Not—that it would mean…well, after all, it _is_ cold in the pool room—and I find myself wondering if the pool table is not only alive, but _watching_ me…."

Sam cleared his throat. "Diane…there's still only one bed in there. I mean—it's yours, sure, but—"

"But I don't want _you_ to give it up—I couldn't do that."

Sam sighed, "Well, I hate to break it to you, but the only way that's gonna work out is—"

"_Sam_," Diane smiled, "One bed…_two_ blankets. I _trust_ that'll be sufficient?"

Sam spread out his hands. "All right—but don't say I didn't warn you."

Diane sighed, and replied, "Sam, for your information, I have _been_ 'on my guard', as it were, in the pool room, _anyway_—however irrational those feelings may be. Now, I would _prefer_ to be on my guard—and sufficiently _warm_."

Sam nodded. "Okay, let's get your stuff."

And as they carried her stuff—including her coat; no need to put themselves through _that_ again—to the office, Sam turned to her, with a smile, "You know, I'm sorry about the…'prissy, spoiled little ice princess' thing."

"Oh, _Sam_," Diane smiled, "Well, discard 'prissy' and '_spoiled_', and the remnant can almost be something of a compliment!"

"Uh-huh."

"I…_do_ have standards, after all. I suppose _some_ men might interpret that as…'frigidity'."

"Yeah, well, you're not that 'icy', anyway—and I don't care _what_ you fell in."

Diane chuckled, as they entered the office. "Thank you, Sam," she sweetly replied in a quiet tone, with a coy posture.

_Hoo, boy—now she _is_ teasing the panther._ But Sam still closed the door, to keep out the cold.

Diane was under the "lower" blanket, Sam in between after he turned out the light and set the clock. Her idea. Fortunately, the cot _was_ big enough. But if anyone was on their guard, it was Sam—against himself. And considering how Diane was facing him, her eyes closed as she relaxed peacefully with a small smile on her face…she certainly wasn't making it easy for him.

"If you want to put your arm around me, Sam, it's fine," she whispered, her smile growing.

Sam chuckled. "I swear, I wasn't thinking that."

"Well…" her eyes opened, "I want it, Sam—I'm still a little cold. Only for a moment, if it makes you uncomfortable—"

_Oh, geez—_now_ she's talking about "uncomfortable"? She either knows how much this is killing me, and _loves_ it—or she's so innocent, she's insane._

Personally, Sam was guessing both. For all he knew, she was trying to "teach" him about "non-sexual relationships" with women—even attractive, and _beautiful_…and _incredibly_ sexy young women, like her—

_Oh, stop. Don't you _dare_ go down that road. She's trusting you to control yourself. It's like working in a bar, and not drinking again—you can do _that_, you can do _this_!_

So he put his arm around her, matching her smile with his own. "That better?"

"Mm-hmm!" Diane nodded to him, her eyes sparkling. "Thank you, Sam."

"Oh, don't mention it."

"To the others? I don't intend to."

"Well…well, that's great—neither do I."

"Oh, how wonderful, Sam…" Diane purred, "This moment—just between the two of us…a moment of comfort between friends, of…_intimacy_, without any hint or _threat _of—"

"No, it's not that good; it's just—if I try explaining to the guys how I was in bed with a woman without…_going to bed with_ her—"

"Oh, _Sam_!"

They shared a chuckle, and a sigh. Sex or no…this felt _right_, somehow—between the two of them. And that just wierded Sam out even more.

Diane smiled warmly at him…making Sam's heart beat harder. "Good night, Sam."

Sam nodded. "Good night, Diane."

And Diane closed her eyes…and within a minute or two, her breathing calmed into something that resembled sleeping.

Sam stared at her, suddenly feeling something that felt like tenderness—like he actually _cared_ for this woman. He'd felt it before, of course—when Diane had let him hug her, as she grieved for her cat. And it still scared him…kinda like it had scared Diane. He just didn't show it.

He'd told himself a lot that his attraction to her was just from her challenge—that it just made him want to get her even more; it would make the thrill of the "conquest" so much bigger. But…now, when he should've been frustrated beyond belief about being so _close_ to a woman and on the other hand…_not_ so close—he wasn't. He was…content. Content to just…watch her sleep.

Well…that wasn't _all_, come to think of it. Sam moved his arm off her…and brushed her cheek gently with his hand. It was as soft as it looked.

He smiled again, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's beautiful," he whispered softly. _The most beautiful woman I've ever met—yeah…I went there._

Diane's eyes fluttered open, looking at him for a moment with mild surprise. "Why…thank you, Sam!" she said in whispered wonder, smiling with her face aglow.

_Oh, crap._

Sam shoved down just _how_ he felt right now, about being caught with his pants down. He stabbed his pointer at her, "Now look—you _ever_ bring that up—to _anyone_, even _me_—and you're dead. You're gonna forget that, just like I'm gonna forget it."

Diane chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Of _course_, Sam…."

And then she closed her eyes again, with a grin that was both maddening and lovable.

There you go. _There_ was the frustration he'd been so scared wasn't there. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Oh, forget it," Sam muttered, as he turned away, his back to her. "She's hopeless."

He heard a light, musical chuckle behind his back. It wasn't the first time. Certainly not the first time from _her_. And despite himself, that chuckle always struck him as a pretty darn pleasant sound.

Sam shook his head—and made _sure_ he didn't say his next thought out loud:

_I'm either going to kill this woman, or marry her._

He gave up, and felt himself rolling to lie on his back, as he dozed off. Next morning couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Diane saw she was the first to wake up. That was actually surprising, in itself—she always was something of a slumbercat. Perhaps it was the unusual locale. Regardless, she was awake, and the alarm hadn't even ringed.

She turned to look at Sam. He was on his back, sleeping like the proverbial log. Diane smiled, propping her head up with her arm. She couldn't resist doodling on his chest with her index finger—briefly catching herself wishing his shirt was off.

_Oh…objectification, Diane?_ And yet, Diane knew he wouldn't have minded the thought. In fact, it was a given he'd love it—too much. And he wouldn't let her hear the end of it. Particularly considering how she'd had her fun with Sam, after he'd slipped the night before…and said she was beautiful.

Diane's smile grew at this._ Oh, Sam…_ The truth was, she wasn't at all surprised he thought that—he'd certainly flirted with her often enough, these past several months, to prove it. But to hear him actually say it…well, she'd felt so elated, and so flattered, she honestly couldn't resist opening her eyes and thanking him.

And—well, of _course_ he'd panic at that. One thing she noticed about Sam Malone was…it was so difficult for him to "open up", to be vulnerable. But inside the cold-hearted, misogynist lothario was a sweet, romantic heart. She'd first seen hints of it when he gave that false story about how her eyes reminded him of the sky off the slopes of a ski resort…or was it so false, after all? And then, when he'd admitted to her how her being here, at _Cheers_, had effectively re-awakened his conscience. And when dear Elizabeth had passed away…and he'd shared her tears, and comforted her.

And now…he'd let down his guard for a moment, brushing her cheek…and said she was beautiful.

Diane leaned over him, and kissed him on the lips. He certainly deserved that much.

She smiled down at his sleeping face. "You're not so bad yourself, Mr. Malone."

After a moment, Diane left the cot, brushing herself off as she stood. With any luck, the plows had come by, and she could drive back to her apartment, to prepare for the day. She took her purse, and opened the door—

"Yeah, don't I know it," called out Sam Malone.

Diane froze, her eyes wide. _Why—why that…!_

She turned to him, to see him sit up, laughing and shaking his head.

"Now we're even, huh?" he grinned at her.

Diane swallowed, feeling her hands clench into fists. "You—_you_…Sam Malone—" she cried out, "Are the most _shameless—contemptible _man I've ever encountered in my LIFE!"

Sam shrugged, his face completely innocent. "So we're even?"

Diane said nothing, feeling her body tremble at this—and not only in rage. And then the alarm clock rang. Diane seized it, and _threw_ it across the room. The noise stopped.

Sam kept his smirk, as she rose to his feet. "You know, you're gonna have to buy me a new one."

Diane smiled back at him, all her negative feelings purged by the throw. "It was worth it."

"I'm sure it was. Good pitch, by the way."

Diane sighed. "I'll see you when my shift begins, Sam."

As she walked to the office door, Sam replied in a warm, almost tender tone, "See you then, sweetheart."

Her back to him, Diane closed her eyes, and mentally counted to ten. And then she left, and that was that.


End file.
